


The Hunting Game

by Mighty_HeadCanon



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Edging, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, ofage!Soren, slut!Viren, top training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 04:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mighty_HeadCanon/pseuds/Mighty_HeadCanon
Summary: Mind the tags. Gonna get reeaalll old school here and say: Don't like, don't read. This is dedicated to anyone who enjoys the father/son dynamic.





	The Hunting Game

“It’s true. There are elves and kings and others I have known. I have a daughter,” honest as Viren’s touch held fast. “I’ve loved a wife. But what, or whom would you expect,” a sullen pause as Soren’s chin was lifted to gaze, “could replace my only son?”

Those had been his father’s words. After the royal sword fighting tournament earlier that afternoon. After Soren’s grand show of strength and exhaustion as Viren had met him in inside the warrior’s tent. Soren had asked if he’d done well with a smart smile plastered on his face. But that expression had faded once his father told him that he had earned victory. To name his prize.

The tent had been hot and dank and humid as Soren wiped his face. An attempt to hide the rising flush and eagerness there.  
“I want an evening.” His best effort to seem confident. Confident as Soren was with everything else, except for this. Pining for his father’s attention. Exemplifying, time and again, his physical prowess like a young buck desperate to mate. Hopeful that his father might notice him as a man. As something more... But that day, his father had simply been agreeable. Viren didn’t ask what an evening might mean. Was it dinner? Or was it something more? To his father, it didn’t really seem to matter. The man was so well practiced in matters like these, and his tempered response did nothing to help ease Soren’s nerves.

But before he left, Viren had named the time and place. His quarters, at sunset. His father had also promised as he disappeared that there would be no interruptions. “You have earned it.”  
A hard aching inside of Soren’s armor reminded him the nature of their agreement. That he was out to court his own father, and that Viren quite clearly knew this. Knew his son wanted to woo him, win him. Earn his paternal love just as much as Soren wanted to mount his father. Gain him.

‘I want him to see me as a man.’

Formidable and handsome. Just as charming as any other elf, or king, or fair lady in Harrow’s court. Soren needed to be seen. Acknowledged. And badly, among such a thickening crowd. If his father could only look upon him the way that he looked on others…

Those needs didn’t subside. Not as Soren had arrived at Viren’s rooms early that night to find a small dining table set up, its placings neatly arranged with care by the kitchen staff. Soren had blushed furiously before snapping into action. He stepped forward, pulled out his father’s chair…  
Viren sat down. No thanks or remarks about that. So, Soren retreated to take his seat. Nervously pushed back his hair and stared as his father slowly unfolded his napkin…

‘By the primal. His hands…’

Those short nails. The generous length of his fingers. The way Viren’s touch slid over and folded the material.  
“I hope you don’t mind.” Flat as Viren looked up. “I requested no servants. Since I think this is what you wanted.” Pointed and direct as always. Soren glanced down to his plate. Back up once more. “Eat before it gets cold.” It was almost like being a child again. Almost, except this time it was much harder to tell if his father was satisfied. Soren picked up his fork, set his plate cover aside, then realized as he focused on the meal…  
“Dad? These are…all of my favorites.”  
“Of course they are.”  
“Wait. You remembered something like that?” Eyes up.  
“These were the only things you’d eat for a number of years,” Viren replied, “No father forgets those kinds of obstacles.”  
“…Oh.”  
It took time before the tension settled. But midway through dinner, Viren openly admitted that he had been impressed.  
“I admire your sword skill, Soren. And your presence. You have a distinct appeal the other guards do not.” That last comment was neither here nor there. Very matter of fact, but still…  
Viren toasted to him. Allowed his gaze to draw longer on Soren as together they shared a bottle of black wine. Then came the much more honest questions from Viren regarding Soren’s want of their privacy. Soren had played it off, or had at least tried to. Then he had joked about Claudia as Viren pushed out his chair..  
“A man like you, Soren. In your position,” spoken as Viren moved away from their table and over toward the bed, “should play his hand wisely. You’ve won your evening, and your prize. Waiting in this room. But if there’s something more you want,” instructional now as Viren’s eyes held firm, “you should expect a long night. And a challenge.”

The heavy scrape of Soren’s chair followed his approach. Viren stood there in the low light, waiting.  
“…”

Unimpressed as his son came near, so hopeful in a tangle of nerves and determination. The bed chamber was silent save the flicker of the lamps. The pounding of Soren’s heart, and the soft rustling of material as the younger man reached out to touch his father’s robes. Viren eyed this, didn’t move as it happened. But as Soren’s hand eased inward to palm his father’s hip, Viren swiftly smacked it away.  
“…?” Soren faltered, color in his face.  
But then, Viren took one step closer.

“…Try again.”

So Soren did. Much more carefully. And this time, Viren gifted his son brief moments of what it was he wanted. Viren allowed a hand over his crotch, even cupped it there in encouragement before moving it aside. Viren edged his son on, roused Soren up as if he were a young puppy. Light touches over his favorite places to get him into heat.   
And it worked. Before long, Soren had him on the bed, breath heavy, tousels of blonde hair falling in his eyes as he desperately explored, needy for the buckles on his father’s belt...  
“!!?” But again, surprise and dismay as Soren was denied. As he was roughly flipped over, and his face was pressed hard into a pillow. “H-hey!?”   
Viren’s left palm met the back of Soren’s neck as the other grazed slowly down his son’s soft black tunic. Sending shivers as it went.

“Dad… Hh-,”  
Viren’s right hand found purpose over Soren’s cheek. It kneaded, then slid inward, and buried itself to firmly fit within the crease of his son’s ass. “D-!” Viren started to massage. Faintly at first, with the tempo growing deeper as Soren’s hips moved to match it.  
“Oh, Dad-,”  
“I thought you were ready.” Viren’s wrist paused momentarily to dip lower, to find Soren’s sac and massage it lovingly.  
“Oh fuck… I am,” whimpering for more of his father’s care, “Dad…I am-…Nh,”  
“Could have fooled me. Is this how you’d do it?” Watching his son’s hips rise as Viren withdrew half of the pressure.  
“Please…shit no,” Soren turned his head to one side so that he could breathe. “Don’t stop. I want…”  
“You want?” Finally a soft half smile from Viren. Such a spoiled child. “Tell me. Spit it out.” Viren’s voice betrayed his expression. The order came harsh and controlled.  
“I want to fuck you, Dad…”  
“Do you?” Almost sarcastic as Viren’s touch fell feather light, and Soren had no choice but to grind back into him.  
“Please,” whining louder, “Please…stop teasing me. I want to fuck you so much. I’m serious-,”  
“If you want me, show me.” And with that, Viren’s hold loosened completely. Soren turned and scrambled up, advanced upon his father with chest heaving, trousers tented. And for Viren it was admittedly adorable as he was taken down, his thighs kicked apart as his son struggled again with the puzzle of his belts.  
“Forget it,” Viren instructed, showing his son the underlayer. That his pants could come off easily and the robe could stay. Yet as Soren tugged them off, moaning when he caught first sight of his father’s half hard cock between the folds of dark cloth, he realized he’d been too slow. His staring had delayed him. Viren was suddenly up on his knees, peeling Soren’s tunic off, moving his son to sit at the edge of the bed as he came up behind him. One strong arm fell across Soren’s bare chest as his father reached down, unfastened him almost expertly with one hand, and began to stroke. Hard.

“Oh…fuck,” sighed as Soren fell back against his father’s chest. Quick pats of Viren’s fist echoed throughout the chamber as Soren dared look down, moaned at what he saw. What was being done to him… “Daddy…,” Whined as it fell out. What Soren used to affectionately call his father so long ago. “Daddy-!” It felt so good. And this was the only person who could help him feel this way…  
“Hm?” Low in Soren’s ear. The tickle of his father’s beard against his cheek.  
“I have to come,” whispered almost fearfully.  
“You have to come?” Frowned amusedly into his son’s neck. “I thought that was saved for me.” Slowing down. Playing in the mess of clear fluid as it beaded from Soren’s slit.   
“It is-… Hh…”  
“All saved for me? I thought you were strong.”  
“I am-!” Cringed.  
“Then try again.” A half-bitten kiss to his son’s neck as a Viren loosened his hold again and Soren groaned in agony. The night was indeed long. Soren wrestled his father in intervals, pinned him. Braced him down and would grind into him while on his side or back, Viren would breathlessly evaluate. Watch his form. See if he was ready.   
There were several mounts, although none of them were successful. Soren was far too nervous, couldn’t make it in time before his father would either sit up or flip them over, and they’d continue on with other games. 

“D-… Daddy… Hh!” Soren was tangled in the sheets, his father’s fingertips tickling lightly, torturing his balls. His nipples. “Daddy, I have to come-!”  
“So you’re going to waste it…”  
“No-..Gh!”  
“Good. Because I want you strong for me.” Sighed into the nape of Soren’s neck. “I need my baby boy to be strong.”

“Oh, fuck-!”  
“…I need you, Soren. Your father needs you. Deep.”

The final straw. “Nnngh!” As Viren was finally, (and very roughly) overpowered and flung onto hand and fist. Soren grabbed his father’s hips, yanked them to him by force as Viren’s robes cascaded beautifully along his bare, pale thighs. Ass presented. Beautiful.  
Slickened from the passing hours of precome, as well as his father’s spit from earlier, Soren kept good hold as he pushed in. One hand kept hold of his father’s wrist, which had been crossed over Viren’s back to keep him from getting away. The mount was successful. Father and son had finally joined at the hip. 

“Oh-Hh!?” Alarm as Soren looked down. As Viren squeezed on him, as Soren broke through and heard his father moan loud and long. Soren watched, panting, before he pushed harder. Held his father’s wrist tighter.  
“Nnh..!” As those hips pushed back. As Viren offered himself without regret or sign of restraint.

‘...He’s used to this. Look at the way he’s spread his legs. My father…knows how to submit.’

But the idea of Viren presenting like that for anyone else…especially those elves…  
Soren fucked harder into Viren, that startouch’s face having flashed momentarily before his eyes. The sex grew slowly unforgiving, Soren angry now through gritted teeth.

“Say it..Hh..,” Soren’s voice was unrecognizable, even to himself.  
“Say what- ngh?” Viren panted from beneath. “Say..wh?!” Cringed as Soren looked down at him. Over the expanse of his father’s back. His bare hips jutted wide and almost proud like a common whore. Soren saw his own cock, nestled tightly within that ring of muscle.

Even if his own father was a slut. Even if…  
“You have to say my name.”  
“Hh??”  
“You have to say it!”  
“Soren-hh,”  
“Fucking say it!” Far more desperate than Soren could ever be demanding as he pushed his father closer to the edge. And Viren cried out for his son, over and over until Soren’s head fell back in euphoria. Hearing his name being called like that…from the one who mattered most. The one who had no choice, right now, other than to accept him.  
Groans between both men as Soren’s final slaps shook them both through their core. And when it hit for the younger, orgasm struck as a fatal blow. The pain of having held for out so long was enough to leave Soren doubled over his father’s back, crying into him. Soren cried as if he were wounded. And he cried for his father to fix it.   
Soren came and cried and bit and drooled. It hurt so, so much, and yet…

‘I’ve never….Not like this.’

They remained that way. Locked together for quite a long time until Soren realized that his grip had slipped. His left hand had lost hold of his father’s wrist.   
It was over the mattress. Viren was clutching it.

“Hh…was it good?” Viren had asked him this. Just now.  
“That was…Hh..,” Gripping his father’s hand even tighter.  
“Good.” Viren’s chest fell heavy in reply as he confessed: “I wanted it to be good for you.”

They cleaned one another, made sport of it. And for Soren, these were other new sorts of firsts. Then they settled in as the sun rose. And Viren whispered to his boy about elves and kings. Of others he had known before as he lifted his son’s face.

“I worry you’re gonna about forget me...sometimes.” Eyes soft and fading fast. Soren was exhausted as Viren’s thumb traced against his cheek.  
“How could I forget,” stroking his son’s skin, “the person who's every part of me?”

“…” No answer. Soren had fallen asleep.   
But Viren kissed his son’s lips all the same. He whispered the words. 

And Soren remembered...when he woke midday alone.


End file.
